‘There’s no getting away from it, that Roger is a good-looking man, but he ain’t a patch on you. Once you get past his pretty face, there isn’t much left. Shallow, that’s what he is, and from what I’ve heard, he’s a right womaniser too. Any girl worth her salt would be well advised to stay clear of that man. I knew his father, he was a friend of your dad’s, and I’m telling you, Roger is a chip off the old block. His father was terrible to his mother. He’d knock about with all the local tarts and made no secret of it! Poor Viv, I’m sure him carrying on like that sent her to an early grave.’

‘Cor blimey, Mum, you don’t ’alf go on sometimes,’ George said with a smile.

‘I’m just saying she’d be an idiot to pass you over for that Roger.’

He knew his mother was right. Roger often bragged about his latest conquest. ‘Love them and leave them,’ he would say, and freely offered tips to George on how to bed a woman.

George wasn’t interested in playing the field. He understood it would take a special woman to see him for himself, and not just his burned face. He thought any woman who could love him would be a keeper, and he hoped it would be Sarah.

Tommy jumped up and down on his bed while Sarah was busy cooking Spam fritters.

‘If you break that, you won’t be getting another one,’ she called over her shoulder.

‘I love my new bed. I’ve never had my own one before,’ Tommy said.

It wasn’t new, but it was to Tommy. It had been delivered earlier, along with a bed for Sarah, two armchairs, a small stove and a coffee table.

Sarah turned with two plates in hand, and scanned the room. She decided it now looked quite homely. She’d scrubbed the walls and managed to remove most of the mould, though she knew it would soon return. The yellowing wallpaper which had been hanging off the walls was now temporarily fixed back with a paste Sarah had made from flour and water. The second-hand furniture was neatly arranged, and they even had a pretty bit of green material at the window that matched the green rug.

‘Come and eat your supper,’ Sarah said, and sat on one of the armchairs with her plate on her lap.

‘When are we going to see George again?’ Tommy asked as he ate his fritter.

‘Don’t talk with food in your mouth,’ Sarah replied, then added, ‘I don’t know. I haven’t managed to find anything for him to sell for us.’

‘Let’s go back to the river then. There might be more treasure.’